


No Wonder He Works at Starbucks

by dreamsofpsilocybin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Castiel, M/M, Pumpkin Spice Latte
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofpsilocybin/pseuds/dreamsofpsilocybin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is picking up a drink for Sam from Starbucks and meets an attractive blue-eyed barista with an unusual name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Wonder He Works at Starbucks

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot based on the prompt 'pumpkin spice latte'. Feedback is welcome.
> 
> Crossposted on [tumblr](http://savingchesters.tumblr.com/post/131799782232).

Dean was pissed. Sam knew he hated Starbucks and still had somehow talked him into picking up a drink for him. It was probably those damn puppy-dog eyes of his. He usually got what he wanted when he used ‘em.

“Son of a _bitch!_ ” Dean yelled, slamming his hand against the steering wheel of the Impala.

He was in the parking lot of Starbucks and every single parking spot was occupied. Why the hell were they so busy? It was only a Thursday afternoon.

Dean grumbled to himself as he drove into the parking lot of the Chick-Fil-A next to the Starbucks. At least _they_ had some empty parking spots.

His luck certainly didn’t improve once he was inside the Starbucks. There were at least four people in line ahead of him and only one person at the register taking the drink orders.

Sighing to himself, Dean pulled the piece of paper with Sam’s drink order on it. _Venti pumpkin spice latte with non-fat milk **AND** whip cream_ , Sam had scrawled.

Venti? Dean wasn’t sure what that meant but whatever. He shoved the note back inside his pocket. The customer at the front of the line had finished ordering and moved aside so the line inched up a bit.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to see Sam had texted him.

> Did you get my PSL yet?

Grinding his teeth, Dean texted back:

> No I’m in line asshat

Returning his phone to his pocket, the line moved forward again and Dean could almost taste the bacon cheeseburger he was going to make when he returned to the bunker.

His phone buzzed again.

> Asshat? Really?

> Shut up

The woman ahead of him finished ordering her drink and moved aside. Finally, it was Dean’s turn.

“What can I get started for you?” the cashier asked.

Dean fumbled for the note in his pocket and read off, “Venti pumpkin spice latte with non-fat milk and whip cream.”

Looking up, he saw a handsome man with dark hair writing the order on a cup. The man looked up from his writing with beautiful blue eyes.

“Your name?”

Dean’s mouth felt like sand paper and he stuttered, “D-Dean.”

The man nodded and scribbled on the cup once more before setting it down next to the queue of drinks waiting to be made.

“Anything else?”

Dean shook his head before clearing his throat. “N-No, that’s it.”

The man punched some buttons on the register’s screen. “That’ll be $5.40.”

Dean fished a $10 bill from his pocket and handed it to the man. As the cashier exchanged the bill for Dean’s change, he glanced at his name tag. Castiel? What kind of name was that? No wonder he works at Starbucks. His parents probably own a new agey shop and are vegan photographers. They probably have FoTurkey for Thanksgiving. _Monsters_.

“$4.60 is your change. Have a good day,” Castiel deposited Dean’s change into his hand, their fingers lightly brushing.

“T-Thanks,” Dean shoved the change into his pocket and moved aside so the person behind him could order.

Castiel smiled warmly at him and Dean felt his breath catch in his chest. He walked to the area where drinks were handed out and mentally chastised himself.

He saw handsome men _all_ the time, why was he acting like such a schoolgirl around this one?

After waiting several minutes, the barista making the drink orders called his name. Dean hastily grabbed the drink and rushed off to his car.

On the drive back to the bunker he couldn’t get Castiel’s eyes out of his head. They were _beautiful_. If he had the talent for drawing or painting, he’d paint those eyes. Dean glanced around the Impala uncomfortably. Even though he was alone, he felt embarrassed about his cheesy chick-flick thoughts.

“Here’s your stupid cappuccino, bitch,” Dean called as he entered the bunker.

“Thanks jerk,” Sam laughed but abruptly stopped. “Oh god, you did get a latte, right?”

“ _Yea!_ ” Dean handed the drink off to Sam and chucked his jacket into one of the chairs at the table. “I don’t mess up supply runs like you.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean as he sipped his drink.

“Pie,” Dean answered Sam’s quizzical look and headed off to the kitchen.

“So Dean, you gonna call Castiel?” Sam called after him.

Dean stopped, his heart speeding up. “W-What?”

Turning back around, he saw Sam was smiling smugly. He lifted his drink in the air. “He wrote his name and number on the cup.”


End file.
